


Take Two

by enoby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Muggle, M/M, Vienna, grindeldore holiday exchange, i probably accidentally referenced cell phones or some other horribly heinous crime, musical AU, terrible historical and cultural inaccuracies i'm sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoby/pseuds/enoby
Summary: Albus Dumbledore, conductor of an orchestra in Vienna, needs a singer. Gellert Grindelwald steps up.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tehtarik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehtarik/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, tehtarik/anagrammaddict! This is for the 2016 Grindeldore Holiday Exchange on tumblr. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- enoby/cauldronbottoms

_1925\. Vienna, Austria._

 

Nine times out of ten, Albus could be found in his office alone, sifting through sheet music or reading the pages quietly, a blackened finger tracing a line across the page. If one listened closely enough, they would be able to hear a hum escape his lips, or the gentle tapping of fingers against his mahogany desk. He tried to make his office a welcoming place, always leaving his door open a crack and keeping a bowl of sweets on his desk, and his efforts paid off. Musicians, even ones that weren't in his ensemble, would appear in his doorway day and night, asking his opinion on one of Beethoven's sonatas, seeking advice on how to interpret a piece, or simply confiding in him whatever was on their minds. It was therefore unremarkable when Elphias Doge, his oboe player, gave a soft knock on his door before pushing it open.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" he asked, and Albus smiled up at him, setting down the score in his hands. The other man was wearing a wrinkled white button-up shirt and had his case hanging at his side, and his dark brown hair was more unkempt than it usually looked at early morning rehearsals.

"Ah, Elphias, what brings you here today?" Albus asked, as it was, after all, a Saturday.

The young man smiled. "Just working on a new reed, when I noticed your light on. I actually wanted to inquire whether or not you have picked a soloist for our upcoming performance."

It was a big decision. This was not a simple solo part, as it required the ability to sing in several ranges, and Albus had been writing to Vienna's other conductors for a month, asking for recommendations.

"I've finally settled on one - yesterday, in fact - although I have not yet met him," Albus admits. "But I have been assured that he will be able to step up and accompany us."

Elphias' eyes lit up. "That's fantastic. Will he be rehearsing with us Monday, then?"

"It may be a few weeks. I suspect he is not familiar with the part. He is also from Salzburg and I believe he still needs to find a place to stay."

"I see," Elphias said, sounding a little disappointed. "Regardless, I look forward to meeting him."

"As do I," Albus said, "as do I. Oh, and good luck with the piece. I trust that you don't find it too difficult? You always perform spectacularly."

The oboe player beamed. "No, sir, not one bit. I'll be on my way - " he added, then leaned forward to grab a paper-wrapped candy from Albus' desk. "Thanks, by the way."

"You're very welcome. I'll see you Monday."

"Good-bye, sir."

As the giant wooden door creaked shut, Albus looked down at the letter in his hands again, tracing the sprawling handwriting with interest.

_Gellert Grindelwald is his name. I'm positive he will perform to your satisfaction._

* * *

 

The auditorium was still dark when Albus shrugged off his tweed coat and draped it over a seat in the front row. Before heading up the stairs and setting up, he flipped through his score, pulling out the spare part for the vocalist. Albus had mailed the part out weeks ago, but he didn't want to risk some unknown person losing it.

Rehearsal wasn't for another half hour, so Albus sunk into a chair and took his baton out of its case, waving it around experimentally. He had always loved the feeling of it in his hand, and this baton in particular - a knobbly wooden one - was his favorite, gifted to him by his late mother.

Albus' eyes had adjusted to the dark - it was bad for him, but so were many things he enjoyed - when he heard the door to the main entrance let out a telltale squeak. Even without turning around, he could guess who it was, but he stood up and did so anyways, because it was the right thing to do. He squinted at the silhouette, looking over his spectacles, and set down his baton.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I am guessing?" the man said with a certain lilt to his voice, approaching the spot where Albus stood.

"And you must be our vocalist. Grindelwald. A pleasure to meet you."

Gellert Grindelwald was shorter up close than he had expected from his voice, although nearly everybody was short compared to Albus, at a towering 190 centimeters. Despite this, Grindelwald stood confidently. Albus felt as if he should be intimidated, but for a reason he couldn't place his finger on, he wasn't.

"Pleasure," Grindelwald echoed, reaching for his hand and shaking it firmly.

"I am happy to see you made it to Vienna safely."

A smile twisted the other man's face. "Yes, it was an exciting journey to say the least. I don't get to travel by train often."

"Did you find a place to stay? I recall you mentioned that you had a relative here."

"Yes, my uncle lives in Wieden, so I'm staying with him right now."

"Wonderful. I'm…" Albus smiled. "Absolutely delighted this has worked out so far. My musicians will be arriving within the hour, but I'd like to run through the piece with you beforehand so that difficulties don't arise later."

Grindelwald nodded, and made his way up to the stage of the rehearsal hall, all the while complimenting various aspects of it good-naturedly. Albus went to turn the stage lights on so that they could see their music, then followed.

"All right. So I generally don't take this piece _too_ fast, although I still honor the intentions…" Albus set the tempo with his baton, quick swishes and flicks, then glanced up at Grindelwald over his glasses. The man was staring at his baton intently, a look of wonder and concentration on his face. Then, startled, he jerked his head up to meet Albus' eyes guiltily.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between the two. Albus was holding his breath, but he wasn't sure why. Grindelwald's face, cracked into a weak smile.

"Sorry, I just - I don't know what came over me…" he said, and cleared his throat.

"Quite all right," said Albus, mystified all the same.

"Some sort of déjà vu, I can't…"  Grindelwald shook his head. "I'm sorry again. Please continue with what you were saying…"

And Albus paused, and he thought, and then he simply complied without mentioning it again. For as much as he wanted to understand everybody, it wasn't always possible, and some things were things only Gellert Grindelwald would know.

* * *

 

Rehearsals were held twice a week, although Albus got used to the sound of Gellert Grindelwald's singing drifting down the hallway whether it was Monday or Friday. Sometimes it was the piece they were performing, sometimes it was something different altogether, but it was always comforting. Most vocalists didn't practice in the auditorium, but Albus had peeked in to say hello once or twice, and he was always there, looking very small amid all the empty space.

But Albus did not often run into his musicians outside of his work for some reason. That's why he was surprised to hear the same voice that serenaded him nearly every day on a Saturday come from behind him in his local bakery.

"Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Gellert Grindelwald?" Albus said curiously, turning around. "What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"What else?" he said, smiling genially. "Just needed a loaf of bread."

"But I didn't think you lived in this district - of course," he added quickly, "it isn't like you aren't allowed to shop here. Quite the opposite. I just wouldn't have expected you to travel across the city just for bread."

Grindelwald's smile faltered, and something in Albus jumped. Had he gone too far?

"Actually… I moved," he admitted. "Not in number 4 anymore."

"Goodness. Did something happen?" Albus said quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

The blond man chewed at his lip. "Of course something happened, but it's quite all right. It won't be of any concern for the upcoming performance, I'll assure you of that."

"But is it of concern to _you_ , Grindelwald?"  

He stared up at Albus, as if taken aback by the question, but did not say a word. So in that moment Albus made a decision - not consciously, but straight from the gut.

"Let's go back to my flat and talk things over a cup of tea. Would you be okay with that?" he said softly.

And that's how Albus ended up in his tiny old armchair, handing his handsome blond soloist a cup of tea and looking at him over his glasses.

Somewhere along the journey of his life, he had discovered that he had a tendency to be a little more fatherly than the average man - although he had never desired children himself. No, he simply felt compelled to understand people, and to do that he listened, he let them open up to him. It was the basis of his interactions with many of his musicians, and his previous flatmates and peers in music school. People had gotten close to him, told him their problems, and he would lend them his ear and expect nothing in return. He didn't keep in contact with all of them - no, the important part was simply being there for them.

So when Grindelwald told Albus that his uncle had kicked him out the other day because he may or may not have gotten in a fight, although he "wouldn't have wanted to stay with that ugly old man and his horrid wife anyways, never liked them", and now he was more or less sleeping in the back room of the auditorium, well -

Albus took pity.

He didn't have a spare room, but he had an abundance of blankets and a soft couch, and Grindelwald said it was much, much better than the cold floor, although he really didn't have to be doing this. However, Albus had grown rather fond of the man who sang so beautifully, and he didn't mind the company.

* * *

 

Gellert Grindelwald had been born only a few years after Albus, making the two men approximately the same age. However, his career as a singer had started relatively recently, compared to Albus, who had been studying it all his life. So when he discovered Albus' alarming array of sheet music and technique books, he spent the entire evening paging through them - with permission, of course - even the ones for instruments he didn't play. Watching the blond man kneeling at Albus' bookcase with an expression like a child on Christmas morning brought a smile to his face.

It became oddly domestic. Albus and Gellert would leave in the morning for rehearsal, dressed for the colder weather, and say hello to all of the neighbours. They would depart the concert hall together as well - Gellert would keep Albus company in his office in the evening, after his voice was tired and he had felt reasonably productive for the day. Of course, this meant that Albus' own productivity took a sharp hit, but he was happy to sit back and talk to Gellert about anything. It started out with music school and all of the previous jobs he had worked at, then evolved to the war, what had happened to his hand, his mother…

"And that was your sister, wasn't it?" Gellert said, looking at the framed photograph Albus kept on his desk. Her blonde locks as Albus remembered were reduced to a pale grey, but he still kept it because he couldn't forget.

"Yes," Albus said. "Although, I never said I had a sister. How do you know she's not my daughter?"

They looked at each other, then began to laugh.

"I could have sworn you told me you had a sister, Albus... " Gellert chuckled, leaning on the desk to look closer. "You really must be getting old."

"No, I rarely speak of her. Ariana."

"Ariana?"

And suddenly that look of intense concentration appeared again on Gellert's face, just like before, and Albus felt cold run through him.

"Gellert?" he asked tentatively.

"Your sister, Ariana…" Gellert said slowly. "And your brother, Aberforth."

He felt numb, very numb. "How did you know that?"

Although he was looking at Albus, Gellert's eyes were somewhere far away. "I just remembered."

* * *

 

They had been wizards. Much younger and much more dangerous, they had killed Ariana Dumbledore - technically one of them, but in reality both of them - and in Aberforth's rage, he had cast a spell that put them both in an unrecoverable state. That was the last either of them remembered. Presumably, they had died, but their presence as Muggles seemed to disprove that.

They put their heads together and tried to think of an reason that would explain why they were there.

"We started over," suggested Gellert.

"We were given another chance," said Albus.

"It was something about the spell."

"It was all a dream…"

"It was all a crazy trip on drugs."

"I doubt that, Gellert."

He shrugged with a grin, and Albus could see the Gellert from their other life smile too - so full of life and runaway passion.

"This is exceedingly strange, nonetheless," Albus said. "Now that we're Muggles."

"You're right," Gellert said somberly. "We can't take them over if we _are_ them."

Albus leaned back in his chair again, glancing outside, where it had grown rather dark. It had felt like far more than a day had passed since they began talking. He wondered if wizards with broomsticks were flying by, and if he would be able to see them if he looked hard enough.

"You know, I like this life much better," he admitted, standing up and pulling on his coat. "We have lived much longer. We aren't in danger. I do love my job."

"As do I." Gellert smiled, and looked around at Albus' quiet office, his towering stacks of books. "I never would have been able to do any of this, otherwise."

"Very true." Albus locked the door behind him, and breathed in the night air. They began to walk back to their flat through the cold streets, which had been long empty. Albus swung his light briefcase in a carefree manner, watching Gellert with a smile. Although he did not have a wand, he felt safe. And although he did not have the Hallows, he felt happy.

"Perhaps we needed a do-over, Albus. Don't you think?"

 


End file.
